CHAPTER II.
THE FAIR AND THE BRAVE.
At breakfast next morning the conversation turned naturally upon thearrival of Maria Semple. The Elder showed far the most enthusiasmconcerning it. He wondered, and calculated, and supposed, till he felthe had become tiresome and exhausted sympathy, and then he subsided intothat painful attitude of disappointment and resignation, which is, alas,too often the experience of the aged? His companions were not insympathy with him. Madame was telling herself she must not expect toomuch. Once she had set her heart upon a beautiful girl who was to becomeNeil's wife, and her love had been torn up by the roots: "maist womencarry a cup of sorrow for some one to drink," she thought, "and I'mfeared for them." As for Neil, he felt sure the girl was going to be atie and a bore, and he considered his brother exceedingly selfish inthrowing the care of his daughter upon his aged parents.
It was not a pleasant meal, but in good hearts depression and doubt findno abiding place. When Neil had gone to his affairs, the Elder looked athis wife, and she gave him his pipe with a smile, and talked to himabout Maria as she put away her china. And she had hardly turned the keyof the glass closet, when the knocker of the front door fell twice--twostrokes, clear, separate, distinct. The Elder rose quickly and with muchexcitement. "That is Bradley's knock," he said; "I never heard itbefore, but it is just the way he would call any one."
He was going out of the room as he spoke, and Madame joined him. Whenthey entered the hall the front door was open, and a short, stout manwas standing on the threshold, holding a young girl by the hand. Hedelivered her to the Elder very much as he would have delivered avaluable package intrusted to his care, and then, as they stood a fewmoments in conversation, Maria darted forward, and with a little cry ofjoy nestled her head on her grandmother's breast. The confiding love ofthe action was irresistible. "You darling!" whispered the old lady witha kiss; "let me look at you!" And she put her at arm's length, and gazedat the pretty, dark face with its fine color, and fine eyes, charminglyset off by the scarlet hood of her traveling cloak.
"What do you think o' your granddaughter, Elder?" she asked, when hejoined them, and her voice was trembling with love and pride.
"I think she is yoursel' o'er again; the vera same bonnie Janet Gordon Iwoo'd and loved in Strathallen nearly fifty years syne. Come and gie metwenty kisses, bairnie. You are a vera cordial o' gladness to ourhearts."
Madame had swithered in her own mind before the arrival of Maria aboutthe room she was to occupy--the little one in the wing, furnished inrush and checked blue and white linen; or the fine guest room over thebest parlor. A few moments with her grandchild had decided her. "Sheshall hae the best we have," she concluded. "What for would I gie it tomy cousin Gordon's wife, and lock my ain flesh and blood out o' it?" Soshe took Maria to her best guest chamber, and when the girl stood in thecenter of it and looked round with an exclamation of delight, she waswell rewarded.
"This is the finest room I ever saw," said Maria. "I love splendidrooms, and mahogany makes any place handsome. And the looking glasses! Ograndmother, I can see myself from top to toe!" and she flung aside hercloak, and surveyed her little figure in its brown camblet dress andlong white stomacher, with great satisfaction.
"And where are your clothes, Maria?" asked Madame.
"I brought a small trunk with me, and Mr. Bradley will send it here thismorning; the rest of my trunks were sent with Captain De Vries. I daresay they will be here soon."
"They are here already, De Vries arrived yesterday, but the rest o' yourtrunks, how many more have you, lassie?"
"Three large, and one little one. Father told me I was to geteverything I wanted, and I wanted so many things. I got them all,grandmother--beautiful dresses, and mantillas, and pelerines; and dozensof pretty underwear. I have had four women sewing for me ever since lastChristmas."
"But the expense o' it, Maria!"
"Mrs. Charlton said I had simply received the proper outfit for a younglady entering society."
"But whatever did your father say?"
"He whistled very softly. There are many ways of whistling, grandmother,and my father's whistle was his form of saying he was astonished."
"I hae no doubt he was astonished."
"I had to have summer and winter dresses, and ball dresses, and homedresses, and street dresses; and all the little things which Mrs.Charlton says are the great things. Father is very generous to me, andhe has ordered Lambert and Co. to send me thirty pounds every month. Hetold me that food and wood and every necessity of life was very dear inNew York, and that if I was a good girl I would do my full share inbearing the burden of life."
This was her pretty way of making it understood that she was to payliberally for her board, and then, with a kiss, she added, "let us godownstairs. I want to see all the house, grandmother. It is like home,and I have had so little home. All my life nearly has been spent atschool. Now I am come home."
They went down hand in hand, and found the Elder walking about in anexcited manner. "I think I shall bide awa' from business to-day," hesaid; "I dinna feel like it. It isna every day a man gets agranddaughter."
_"Tuts!_ Nonsense, Alexander! Go your ways to the store, then you cantalk to your acquaintance o' your good fortune. Maria and I will haeboxes to unpack, and clothes to put away; and you might as weel call atDe Vries, and tell him to get Miss Semple's trunks here withoutsauntering about them. Batavius is a slow creature. And Neil must haethe news also, so just be going as quick as you can, Alexander."
He was disappointed; he had hoped that Maria would beg him to stay athome, but he put on his long coat with affected cheerfulness, and withmany little delays finally took the road. Then the two women wentthrough the house together, and by that time Bradley had sent the smalltrunk, and they unpacked it, and talked about the goods, and about avariety of subjects that sprang naturally from the occupation.
All at once Madame remembered to ask Maria where she had spent theprevious night, and the girl answered, "I slept at the Bradley's. It wasquite twilight when we reached their house, and Mr. Bradley said thisroad was beset by thieves and bad people after dark, and he also thoughtyou retired early and would not care to be disturbed."
"Vera considerate o' Mr. Bradley, I am sure; perhaps mair so thannecessary. Maria, my dear, I hope you are not very friendly wi' hisdaughter."
"Not friendly with Agnes Bradley! Why, grandmother, I could not be happywithout her! She has been my good angel for three years. When she cameto Mrs. Charlton's I had no friends, for I had such a bad temper thegirls called me 'Spitfire' and 'Vixen' and such names, and I was proudof it. Agnes has made me gentle and wishful to do right. Agnes is asnearly an angel as a woman can be."
"Fair nonsense, Maria! And I never was fond o' angelic women, they dinnabelong to this world; and your grandfather dislikes John Bradley, hewill not allow any friendship between you and Agnes Bradley. That issure and certain."
"What has Mr. Bradley done wrong to grandfather?"
"Naething; naething at all! He just does not like him."
"I shall have to explain things to grandfather. He ought not to takedislikes to people without reason."
"There's no one can explain things to your grandfather that he does notwant to understand. I know naething o' John Bradley, except that he is aMethodist, and that kind o' people are held in scorn."
"I think we can use up all our scorn on the Whigs, grandmother, and letthe Methodists alone. Mr. Bradley is a Tory, and trusted and employed bythe Government, and I am sure he preached a beautiful sermon last Sundayat Stamford."
"Your grandfather said he would preach at Stamford."
"He preached on the green outside the town. There were hundreds tolisten to him. Agnes led the singing."
"Maria Semple! You don't mean to tell me you were at a field preaching!"
"It was a good preaching and----"
"The man is a saddle-maker! I hae seen him working, day in and day out,in his leather apron."
"St. Paul was a
tent-maker; he made a boast of it, and as he was asensible man, I have no doubt he wore an apron. He would not want tospoil his toga."
_"Hush! Hush!_ You must not speak o' Saint Paul in that tempered andcommon way. The Apostles belong to the Kirk. Your father was brought upa good Presbyterian."
"Dear grandmother, I am the strictest kind of Presbyterian. I reallywent to hear Agnes. If you had seen her standing by her father's side onthat green hill and heard her sing:
'Israel, what hast thou to dread? Safe from all impending harms, Round thee, and beneath thee, spread, Are the everlasting arms.'
you would have caught up the song as hundreds did do, till it spread tothe horizon, and rose to the sky, and was singing and praying both.People were crying with joy, and they did not know it."
"I would call her a dangerous kind o' girl. Has she any brothers orsisters?"
"Her brother went to an English school at the beginning of the war. Hewas to finish his education at Oxford. Annie Gardiner--one of theschoolgirls--told me so. He was her sweetheart. She has no sisters."
"Sweetheart?"
"Just boy and girl sweethearting. Agnes seldom spoke of him; sometimesshe got letters from him."
"Has Agnes a sweetheart?"
"There was a young gentleman dressed like a sailor that called on hernow and then. We thought he might be an American privateer."
"Then Agnes Bradley is for the Americans! Well, a good girl, like her,would be sure to take the right side. Nae doubt the hymn she sungreferred to the American army."
"I am sure people thought so; indeed, I fear Agnes is a little bit of arebel, but she has to keep her thoughts and feelings to herself."
"Plenty o' folks hae to do the same; thought may be free here, butspeech is bond slave to His Majesty George o' Hanover, or England, orBrunswick, or what you like."
"Or America!"
"Nae, nae! You may make that last statement wi' great reservation,Maria. But we must make no statements that will vex your grandfather,for he is an auld man, and set in his ways, and he does not believe inbeing contradicted."
And at this moment they heard the Elder's voice and step. He came in sohappily, and with such transparent excuses for his return home, that thewomen could not resist his humor. They pretended to be delighted; theysaid, "how nice it was that he had happened to arrive just as dinner wasready to serve;" they even helped him to reasons that made his returnopportune and fortunate. And Batavius arriving with the trunksimmediately after the meal, Madame made unblushing statements about herdislike of the man, and her satisfaction in the Elder being at hand toprevent overcharges, and see to the boxes being properly taken upstairs.
Then Maria begged him to remain and look at her pretty things, and thatwas exactly what he wished to do; and so, what with exhibiting them, andtrying some of them on, and sorting, and putting them into drawers andwardrobes, the afternoon slipped quickly away. The Elder had his pipebrought upstairs, and he sat down and smoked it on the fine sofa Mrs.Gordon had covered with her own needlework when she occupied the room;and no one checked him or made discouraging demurs. He had his fullshare of the happy hours; and he told himself so as the ladies weredressing; and he sat waiting for Neil, alone with his pleasant thoughtsand anticipations.
"Auld age has its compensations," he reflected. "They wouldna hae letNeil sit and smoke amid their fallals; and it was the bonniest sight towatch them, to listen to their _Ohs!_ and _Ahs!_ and their selfish bitso' prattle, anent having what no ither woman was able, or likely tohave. Women are queer creatures, but, Oh, dear me, what a weary world itwould be without them!"
And when Maria came down stairs in a scarlet gown over a white silkpetticoat, a string of gold beads round her neck, and her hair dressedhigh and fastened with a gold comb, he was charmed afresh. He rose withthe gallantry of a young man, to get her a chair, but she made him sitdown and brought a stool to his side, and nestled so close to him thathe put his arm across her pretty shoulders. And it added greatly to hissatisfaction that Neil came suddenly in, and discovered them in thisaffectionate attitude.
"One o' the compensations o' auld age," he said in happy explanation."Here is your niece, Maria Semple, Neil; and proud you may be o'her!"--and Maria rose, and made her uncle a sweeping courtesy, and thenoffered him her hand and her cheek. The young man gave her a warmwelcome, and yet at the same moment wondered what changes the littlelady would bring to the house. For he had sense and experience enough toknow that a girl so attractive would irresistibly draw events to her.
In two or three days the excitement of her advent was of necessity putunder restraint. Age loves moderation in all things, and Maria began tofeel the still, stately house less interesting than the schoolroom.Whigs and Tories, however unequally, divided that ground, and the twoparties made that quarrel the outlet for all their more femininedislikes. Her last weeks at school had also been weeks full of girlishtriumphs; for she was not only receiving a new wardrobe of an elaboratekind, but she was permitted to choose it; to have interviews withmantua-makers and all kinds of tradespeople; and above all, she wasgoing to New York. And New York at that time was invested with all theromance of a mediaeval city. It was the center around which the chiefevents of the war revolved. Within her splendid mansions the officers ofKing George feasted, and danced, and planned warlike excursions; and inher harbor great fleets were anchored whose mission was to subjugate thewhole Southern seaboard. This of itself was an interesting situation,but how much more so, when Whig and Tory alike knew, that just over thewestern shore every hilltop, and every lofty tree held an Americansentinel, while Washington himself, amid the fastnesses of New Jersey,watched with unerring sagacity and untiring patience the slightestmilitary movement on Manhattan Island.
Thus, the possibilities and probabilities of her expected change of lifehad made her the envy of romantic girls; for all of them, no matter whattheir political faith, had their own conception of the great thingswhich might be achieved in a city full of military and naval officers.It was the subject on which conversation was always interesting, andoften provocative; thus, in the very last talk she had with herschoolmates, one little Tory maid said:
"O, the dear officers! How delightful it will be to dance with brave menso magnificently dressed in scarlet and gold! How I wish that I was you,Maria!"
"O, the hateful creatures!" ejaculated another girl of differentopinions. "I would not dance a step with one of them; but if I did, Ishould be saying to myself all the time: very soon my fine fellow, somebrave man in homespun blue will kill you."
"If I was Maria," said another, "and had a British officer for myservant, I would coax him to tell me what General Clinton was going todo; and then I would send word to General Washington."
"O, you mean girl!" answered Maria, "would you be a spy?"
"Yes, I would."
"And so would I!"
"And I!"
"And I!"
"And I!" And then an equal chorus of "What a shame! Just like Whigs!"
Maria missed these encounters. She saw that her grandmother usuallydeprecated political conversation, and that her uncle and grandfatherdid not include her in the discussion of any public event. On thefourth day she began to feel herself of less importance than sheapproved; and then there followed naturally the demoralizing luxury ofself-pity:
"Because I am a girl, and a very young girl, no one appears to think Ihave common sense. I am as loyal to the King as any one. I wishgrandmother would speak out. I believe she is a Whig. Uncle Neil said hewould take me to some entertainments; he has not done so. I am nottired--that is just an excuse--I want to go out and I want to see Agnes.I will not give up Agnes--no one, no one shall make me--she is part ofmy heart! No, I will not give up Agnes; her father may be a saddler--anda Methodist--I am above noticing such things. I will love who Ilike--about my friends I will not yield an inch--I will not!"
She was busy tatting to this quite unnecessary tirade of protestation
sand her grandmother noticed the passionate jerk of the shuttleemphasizing her thoughts. "What is vexing you, dearie?" she asked.
"Oh, I am wretched about Agnes," she answered. "I am afraid grandfatherhas been rude in some way."
"You needna be afraid on that ground, Maria; your grandfather is neverrude where women are concerned."
"But he is unkind. If he was not, there could be no objections to mycalling on Agnes."
"Is it not her place to call on you? She is at home--born and bred inNew York--you are a stranger here. She is older than you are; she seemsto have assumed some kind of care or oversight----."
"She has been my guardian angel."
"Then I think she ought to be looking after a desolate bairn like you;one would think you had neither kith nor kin near you, Maria." Madamespoke with an air of offense or injury, and as the words were uttered,the door was softly moved inward, and Agnes Bradley entered.
She courtesied to Madame, and then stretched out her hands to Maria. Thegirl rose with a cry of joy, and all her discontent was gone in amoment. Madame could not forget so easily; in fact, her sense ofunkindness was intensified by the unlooked-for entrance of its cause.But there was no escaping the influence of Agnes. She brought the veryatmosphere of peace into the room with her. In ten minutes she wassitting between Madame and Maria, and both appeared to be alike happy inher society. She did not speak of the war, or the soldiers, or thefrightful price of food and fuel, or the wicked extravagance of the Toryladies in dress and entertainments, or even of the unendurable impudenceof the negro slaves. She talked of Maria, and of the studies she oughtto continue, and of Madame's flowers and needlework, and a sweet feelingof rest from all the fretful life around was insensibly diffused. In ashort time Madame felt herself to be under the same spell as hergranddaughter, and she looked at the charmer with curious interest; shewondered what kind of personality this daughter of tranquilitypossessed.
A short scrutiny showed her a girl about nineteen years old, tall, butnot very slender, with a great deal of pale brown hair above a broadforehead; with eyebrows thick and finely arched, and eyelids sotransparent from constant contact with the soul that they seemed to havealready become spiritual. Her eyes were dark grey, star-like, mystical,revealing--when they slowly dilated--one hardly knew what of the unseenand heavenly. Her face was oval and well shaped, but a little heavyexcept when the warm pallor of its complexion was suddenly transfiguredfrom within; then showing a faint rose color quickly passing away. Hermovements were all slow, but not ungraceful, and her soft voice hadalmost a caress in it. Yet it was not these things, one, or all of them,that made her so charmful; it was the invisible beauty in the visible,that delighted.
Without question here was a woman who valued everything at its eternalworth; who in the midst of war, sheltered life in the peace of God; andin the presence of sorrow was glad with the gladness of the angels. Anhour with Agnes Bradley made Madame think more highly of hergranddaughter; for surely it was a kind of virtue in Maria to love thegoodness she herself could not attain unto.
Nearly two hours passed quickly away. They walked in the garden andtalked of seeds, and of the green things springing from them; and downat the lily bed by the river, Madame had a sudden memory of a younggirl, who had one Spring afternoon gone down there to meet her fate; andshe said to Agnes--with a note of resentment still in her voice:
"A lassie I once loved dearly, came here to gather lilies, and to listento a lover she had nae business to listen to. She would sit doubtless onthe vera step you are now sitting on, Maria; and she made sorrow andsuffering enough for more than one good heart; forbye putting auldfriends asunder, and breeding anger where there had always been love. Ihope you'll never do the like, either o' you."
"Who was she, grandmother?"
"Her name was Katherine Van Heemskirk. You'll hae heard tell o' her,Miss Bradley?"
"I saw her several times when she was here four years ago. She is verybeautiful."
Madame did not answer, and Maria stepped lower and gathered a few liliesthat were yet in bloom, though the time of lilies was nearly over. ButAgnes turned away with Madame, and both of them were silent; Madamebecause she could not trust herself to begin speech on this subject, andAgnes because she divined, that for some reason, silence was in thiscase better than the fittest words that could be spoken.
After a short pause, Agnes said, "My home is but a quarter of a milefrom here, and it is already orderly and pleasant. Will you, Madame,kindly permit Maria to come often to see me! I will help her with herstudies, and she might take the little boat at the end of your garden,and row herself along the water edge until she touches the pier in ourgarden."
"She had better walk."
In this way the permission was granted without reserves or conditions.Madame had not thought of making any, and as soon as she realized herimplied approval, she was resolved to stand by it. "The lassie requiresyoung people to consort wi'," she thought, "and better a young lass thana young lad; and if her grandfather says contrary, I must make himwiser."
With this concession the visit ended, but the girls went out of theparlor together, and stood talking for some time in the entrance hall.The parting moment, however, had to come, and Maria lifted her lips toher friend, and they were kissing each other good-bye, when Neil Sempleand a young officer in the uniform of the Eighty-fourth RoyalHighlanders opened the door. The picture of the two girls in theirloving embrace was a momentary one, but it was flooded with the coloredsunshine pouring on them from the long window of stained glass, and themen saw and acknowledged its beauty, with an involuntary exclamation ofdelight. Maria sheltered herself in a peal of laughter, and over theface of Agnes there came and went a quick transfiguring flush; but sheinstantly regained her mental poise, and with the composure of a goddesswas walking toward the door, when Neil advanced, and assuming the dutyof a host, walked with her down the flagged path to the garden gate.Maria and the young soldier stood in the doorway watching them; andMadame at the parlor window did the same thing, with an indescribableamazement on her face.
"It isna believable!" she exclaimed. "Neil Semple, the vera proudest o'mortals walking wi' auld Bradley's daughter! his hat in his hand too!and bowing to her! bowing to his vera knee buckles! After this, theStuarts may come hame again, or any other impossible thing happen. Theworld is turning tapsalterie, and I wonder whether I am Janet Sample, orsome ither body."
But the world was all right in a few minutes; for then Neil entered theroom with Maria and Captain Macpherson, and the mere sight of the youngHighlandman brought oblivion of all annoyances. Madame's heart flew toher head whenever she saw the kilt and the plaid; she hastened to greetits wearer; she took his plumed bonnet from his hand, and said it was"just out o' calculation that he should go without breaking bread withthem."
Captain Macpherson had no desire to go. He had seen and spoken withMaria, and she was worth staying for; besides which, a Scot in a strangeland feels at home in a countryman's house. Macpherson quickly madehimself so. He went with Neil to his room, and anon to the garden, andfinally loosed the boat and rowed up the river, resting on the oars atthe Bradley place, hoping for a glance at Agnes. But nothing was to beseen save the white house among the green trees, and the white shadesgently stirring in the wind. The place was as still as a resting wheel,and the stillness infected the rowers; yet when Macpherson was inSemple's garden, the merry ring of his boyish laughter reached Madameand Maria in the house, and set their hearts beating with pleasure asthey arranged the tea-table, and brought out little dishes of hoardedluxuries. And though Madame's chickens were worth three dollars each,she unhesitatingly sacrificed one to a national hero.
When the Elder came home he was equally pleased. He loved young people,and the boyish captain with his restless, brimming life, was an elementthat the whole house responded to. His heart had a little quake at theabundance of the meal, but it was only a momentary reserve, and hesmiled as his eyes fell on the motto carved around the woodenbread-plate--_"Spare Not!
Waste Not! Want Not!"_
Madame looked very happy and handsome sitting before her tray of prettychina, and the blended aromas of fine tea and hot bread, of broiledchicken, and Indian preserves and pickles were made still moreappetizing by the soft wind blowing through the open window, the perfumeof the lilacs and the southernwood. Madame had kept the place at herright hand for Macpherson; and Maria sat next to him with hergrandfather on her right hand, so that Neil was at his mother's lefthand. Between the two young men the old lady was radiantly happy; forMacpherson was such a guest as it is a delight to honor. He ate of allMadame had prepared for him, thoroughly enjoyed it, and frankly said so.And his chatter about the social entertainments given by GeneralsClinton and Tryon, Robertson and Ludlow was very pleasant to the ladies.Neil never had anything to say about these affairs, except that theywere "all alike, and all stupid, and all wickedly extravagant;" and suchcriticism was too general to be interesting.
Very different was Macpherson's description of the last ball at GeneralTryon's; he could tell all its details--the reception of the companywith kettle drums and trumpets--the splendid furniture of hisresidence, its tapestries, carpets, and silk hangings--the music, thedancing, the feasting--the fine dressing of both men and women--allthese things he described with delightful enthusiasm and a littlepleasant mimicry. And when Madame asked after her acquaintances,Macpherson could tell her what poplins and lutestrings, and lace andjewels they wore. Moreover, he knew what grand dames crowded WilliamStreet in the mornings and afternoons, and what merchants had thelargest display of the fashions and luxuries of Europe.
"John Ambler," he said, "is now showing a most extraordinary cargo ofEnglish silks and laces, and fine broadcloths, taken by one of DirkVandercliff's privateers. Really, Madame, the goods are worth lookingat. I assure you our beauties lack nothing that Europe can produce."
"Yes, there is one thing the privateers canna furnish you, and that isfuel. You shivered all last winter in your splendid rooms," said theElder.
"True," replied Macpherson. "The cold was frightful, and though GeneralClinton issued one proclamation after another to the farmers of LongIsland to send in their wood, they did not do it."
"Why should they?" asked Madame.
"On the King's service, Madame," answered the young man with a finalair.
"Vera good," retorted Madame; "but if the King wanted my forest treesfor naething, I should say, 'your Majesty has plenty o' soldiers wi'little to do; let them go and cut what they want.' They wouldna waste itif they had it to cut. But the wastrie in everything is simply sinful,and I canna think where the Blacks and Vanderlanes, and all the other'Vans' you name--and whom I never heard tell of in our kirk--get themoney."
"Privateering!" said Macpherson with a gay laugh. "Who would not be aroving privateer? I have myself longings for the life. I have thoughtsof joining Vandercliff's fleet."
"You are just leeing, young man," interrupted Madame. "It would be athing impossible. The Macphersons have nae salt water in their blood.Could you fling awa' your tartans for a sailor's tarry coat andbreeches? How would you look if you did? And you would feel worse thanyou looked."
Macpherson glanced at his garb with a smile of satisfaction. "I am aMacpherson," he answered, proudly, "and I would not change the colors ofmy regiment for a royal mantle; but privateering is no small temptation.On the deck of a privateer you may pick up gold and silver."
"That is not very far from the truth," said Neil. "In the first year ofthe war the rebel privateers took two hundred and fifty West Indiamen,valued at nearly two millions of pounds, and Mr. Morris complained thatthe Eastern states cared for nothing but privateering."
"Weel, Morris caught the fever himself," said the Elder. "I have beentold he made nearly four hundred thousand dollars in the worst year therebel army ever had."
"Do the rebels call that patriotism?" asked Macpherson.
"Yes," answered the Elder, "from a Whig point of view it is verapatriotic; what do you think, Neil?"
"If I was a Whig," answered Neil, "I should certainly own privateers.Without considering the personal advantage, privateering brings greatriches into the country; it impoverishes the enemy, and it addsenormously to the popularity of the war. The men who have hitherto goneto the Arctic seas for whales, find more wealthy and congenial work incapturing English ships."
"And when men get money by wholesale high-seas robbery----"
"Privateering, Madame," corrected Macpherson.
"Weel, weel, give it any name you like--what I want to say is, thatmoney got easy goes easy."
"In that, Madame, you are correct. While we were in Philadelphia thatcity was the scene of the maddest luxury. While the rebels were beggingmoney from France to feed their starving army at Valley Forge, everykind of luxury and extravagance ran riot in Philadelphia. At oneentertainment there was eight hundred pounds spent in pastry alone."
"Stop, Macpherson!" cried Madame, "I will not hear tell o' suchwickedness," and she rose with the words, and the gentlemen went intothe parlor to continue their conversation.
Madame had been pleased with her granddaughter's behavior. She had nottittered, nor been vulgarly shy or affected, nor had she intruded heropinions or feelings among those of her elders; and yet herself-possession, and her expressive face had been full of that charmwhich showed her to be an interested and a comprehending listener. Now,however, Madame wished her to talk, and she was annoyed when she didnot do so. It was only natural that she should express some interest inthe bright young soldier, and her silence concerning him Madame regardedas assumed indifference. At last she condescended to the leadingquestion:
"What do you think o' Captain Macpherson, Maria?"
"I do not know, grandmother."
"He is a very handsome lad. It did my heart good to see his brightface."
"His face is covered with freckles."
"Freckles! Why not? He has been brought up in the wind and the sunshine,and not in a boarding-school, or a lady's parlor."
"Freckles are not handsome, however, grandmother."
Madame would not dally with half-admissions, and she retorted sharply:
"Freckles are the handsomest thing about a man; they are only the humansunshine tint; the vera same sunshine that colored the roses and ripenedthe wheat gave the lad the golden-brown freckles o' rich young life.Freckles! I consider them an improvement to any one. If you had a fewyoursel' you would be the handsomer for them."
"Grandmother!"
"Yes, and your friend likewise. She has scarce a mite o' color o' anykind; a little o' the human sunshine tint--the red and gold on hercheeks--and she might be better looking."
"Better looking! Why, grandmother, Agnes was the beauty of the school."
"Schoolgirls are poor judges o' beauty. She has a wonderfu' pleasantway with her, but that isn't beauty."
"I thought you liked her, I am so sorry and disappointed."
"She is weel enough--in her way. There are plenty o' girls not aspleasant; but she is neither Venus, nor Helen o' Troy. I was speaking o'Captain Macpherson; when he stood in the garden with your uncle Neil,his hand on his sword and the wind blowing his golden hair----"
"Grandmother! His hair is red."
"It is naething o' the kind, Maria. It is a bonnie golden-brown. It may,perhaps, have a cast o' red, but only enough to give it color. And hehas a kindly handsome face, sweet-eyed and fearless."
"I did not notice his eyes. He seems fearless, and he is certainlygood-tempered. Have you known him a long time, grandmother?"
"I never saw him before this afternoon," the old lady answered wearily.She had become suddenly tired. Maria's want of enthusiasm chilled her.She could not tell whether the girl was sincere or not. Women generallyhave two estimates of the men they meet; one which they acknowledge, onewhich they keep to themselves.
When the gentlemen returned to the sitting-room a young negro waslighting the fire, and Macpherson looked at him with attention. "Afinely built fellow," he said, when the slave had lef
t the room; "suchmen ought to make good fighters." Then turning to Madame he added,"Captain de Lancey lost four men, and Mr. Bayard five men last week.They were sent across the river to cut wood and they managed to reachthe rebel camp. We have knowledge that there is a full regiment of themthere now."
"They are fighting for their personal freedom," said the Elder, "and whowouldna fight for that? Washington has promised it, if they fight to theend o' the war."
"They have a good record already," said Macpherson.
"I have nae doubt o' it," answered the Elder. "Fighting would comeeasier than wood cutting, no to speak o' the question o' freedom. Iheard a sough o' rumor about them and the Hessians; true, or not, Ican't say."
"It is true. They beat back the Hessians three times in one engagement."
"I'm glad o' it," said Madame, "slaves are good enough to fight hiredhuman butchers."
"O, you know, Madame, the Hessians are mercenaries; they make arms aprofession." He spoke with a languid air of defense; the Hessians werenot of high consideration in his opinion, but Madame answered withunusual warmth:
"A profession! Well, it isn't a respectable one in their hands--menselling themselves to fight they care not whom, or for what cause. If aman fights for his country he is her soldier and her protector; if hesells himself to all and sundry, he is worth just what he sells himselffor, and the black slave fighting for his freedom is a gentleman besidehim." Then, before any one could answer her tart disparagement, sheopened a little Indian box, and threw on the table a pack of cards.
"There's some paper kings for you to play wi'," she said, "and neitherGeorge nor Louis has a title to compare wi' them--kings and knaves!Ancient tyrants, and like ithers o' their kind, they would trick thewarld awa' at every game but for some brave ace," and the ace of heartshappening to be in her hand she flung it defiantly down on the top ofthe pack; and that with an air of confidence and triumph that was veryremarkable.
With the help of these royalties and some desultory conversation on therecent alliance of France with the rebels, the evening passed away.Madame sat quiet in the glow of the fire, and Maria, as Neil's partner,enlivened the game with many bewitching airs and graces she had notknown she possessed, until this opportunity called them forth. Andwhatever Macpherson gained at cards he lost in another direction; forthe little schoolgirl, he had at first believed himself to bepatronizing, reversed the situation. He became embarrassed by arealization of her beauty and cleverness; and the sweet old story beganto tell itself in his heart--the story that comes no one knows whence,and commences no one knows how. In that hour of winning and losing hefirst understood how charming Maria Semple was.
The new feeling troubled him; he wished to be alone with it, and theardent pleasure of his arrival had cooled. The Elder and his wife weretired, and Neil seemed preoccupied and did not exert himself to restorethe tone of the earlier hours; so the young officer felt it best to makehis adieu. Then, the farewell in a measure renewed the joy of meeting;he was asked to come again, "to come whenever he wanted to come," saidMadame, with a smile of motherly kindness. And when Maria, with adownward and upward glance laid her little hand in his, that incidentmade the moment wonderful, and he felt that not to come again would be agreat misfortune.
Maria was going to her room soon afterward but Neil detained her. "Canyou sit with me a little while, Maria?" he asked; "or are you alsosleepy?"
"I am not the least weary, uncle; and I never was wider awake in mylife. I will read to you or copy for you----"
"Come and talk to me. The fire still burns. It is a pity to leave itswarmth. Sit down here. I have never had a conversation with you. I donot know my niece yet, and I want to know her."
Maria was much flattered. Neil's voice had a tone in it that she hadnever before heard. He brought her a shawl to throw around hershoulders, a footstool for her feet, and drawing a small sofa before thefire, seated himself by her side. Then he talked with her about herearly life; about her father and mother, and Mrs. Charlton, and withoutasking one question about Agnes Bradley led her so naturally to thesubject, and so completely round and through it, that he had learned inan hour all Maria could tell concerning the girl whose presence andappearance had that day so powerfully attracted him. He was annoyed whenhe heard her name, and annoyed at her pronounced Methodism, which wasevidently of that early type, holding it a sin not to glory in the scornof those who derided it. Yet he could not help being touched by Maria'senthusiastic description of the girl's sweet godliness.
"You know, uncle," she said, "Agnes's religion is not put on; it is partof Agnes; it is Agnes. Girls find one another out, but all the girlsloved Agnes. We were ashamed to be ill-natured, or tell untruths, or domean things when she was there. And if you heard her sing, uncle, youwould feel as if the heavens had opened, and you could see angels."
Now there is no man living who does not at some time dream of a goodwoman--a woman much better than himself--upon his hearthstone. Neil feltin that hour this divine longing; and he knew also, that the thing hadbefallen him which he had vowed never would befall him again. Withoutresistance, without the desire to resist, he had let the vision of AgnesBradley fill his imagination; he had welcomed it, and he knew that itwould subjugate his heart--that it had already virtually done so. ForMaria's descriptions of the pretty trivialities of their school life wasmusic and wine to his soul. He was captivated by her innocentrevelations, and the tall girl with her saintly pallor and star-likeeyes was invisibly present to him. He had the visionary sense, the gloryand the dream of love, and he longed to realize this vision. Thereforehe was delighted when he heard that Maria had permission to continue herstudies under the direction of her friend. It was an open door to him.
It was at this point that Maria made her final admission: "I am obligedto tell you, uncle, that I am sure Agnes is a Whig." This damaging itemin her idol's character Maria brought out with deprecating apologiesand likelihood of change, "not a bad Whig, uncle; she is so gentle, andshe hates war, and so she feels so sorry for the poor Americans who aresuffering so much, because, you know, they think they are right. Thenher father is a Tory, and she is very fond of her father, and very proudof him, and she will now be under his influence, and of course do whathe tells her--only--only----"
"Only what, Maria? You think there is a difficulty; what is it?"
"Her lover. I am almost certain he is a rebel."
"Has she a lover? She is very young--you must be mistaken?" He spoke sosharply Maria hardly knew his voice, and she considered it best tohesitate a little, so she answered in a dubious manner:
"I suppose he is her lover. The girls all thought so. He sent herletters, and he sometimes came to see her; and then she seemed sohappy."
"A young man?"
"Yes, a very young man."
"A soldier?"
"I think, more likely, he was a sailor. I never asked Agnes. You couldnot ask Agnes things, as you did other girls."
"I understand that."
"He wore plain clothes, but all of us were sure he was a sailor; andonce we saw Agnes watching some ships as far as she could see them, andhe had called on her that day."
Neil did not answer her conjecture. He rose and stood silently on thehearth, his dark eyes directed outward, as if he was calling up thevision of the sea, and the ships and the girl watching them. For thefirst time Maria realized the personal attractiveness of her uncle. "Heis not old," she thought, "and he is handsomer than any one I ever saw.Why has he not got married before this?" And as she speculated on thisquestion, Neil let his eyes fall upon the dead fire and in a melancholyvoice said:
"Maria, my dear, it is very late, I did not remember--you have given metwo pleasant hours. Good-night, child."
He spoke with restraint, coldly and wearily. He was not aware of it, forhis mind was full of thoughts well-nigh unspeakable, and Maria felttheir influence, though they had not been named. She went away depressedand silent, like one who has suddenly discovered they were no longerdesired.
Neil s
peedily put out the lights, and went to the solitude his heartcraved. He was not happy; but doubt and fear are love's first food. Foranother hour he sat motionless, wondering how this woman, whom he hadnot in any way summoned, had taken such possession of him. For not yethad it been revealed to him, that "love is always a great invisiblepresence," and that in his case, Agnes Bradley was but its materialrevelation.